


Press 1

by montegobae



Category: K-pop, LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Cheating, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Love Triangles, Missing Persons, Mystery, Physics, Time Travel, a Hot Mess, actually more complicated than a love triangle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-11-18 10:13:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18118736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montegobae/pseuds/montegobae
Summary: Three years after Sooyoung goes missing, Jiwoo gets a call from her."Do you want to play again? If so, press 1."A story about time.





	1. A Beginning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my first multi-chapter fic!! be prepared because it's an absolute hot mess 8)  
> also im experimenting kind of with a choppier writing style so let me know what u guys think about it later!!!  
> (also im writing this instead of studying for finals more like 'press f' amirite)

And just like the day before, Jiwoo rises for work. She used to be more considerate, quickly turning her alarm off and quietly slipping out from underneath the blanket. Now, she lets her alarm ring as she sits at the bedside, twisting and stretching until her spine is perfectly misaligned. Feelings—good and bad—creep up her neck, but she shakes them off before their legs take root. So it goes every day, Jungeun wraps a pillow around her head.

Muffled, “Could you turn your alarm off?”

As she listens well, Jiwoo turns it off.

Then, she gets ready for work, putting on one of many white blouses. When she returns to the bedroom, she finds Jungeun where she is every morning. Even as time pushes forward, she remains as is, so Jiwoo always knows where to find her.

They’ve known each other since high school.

“Babe, I’m coming home late tonight.” Jiwoo adjusts her collar. “Boss wants to discuss our upcoming conference. Go over the itinerary, that sort of stuff.” She sits back down on their bed, leaning her body over to Jungeun’s side.

Jungeun grumbles, “Have fun.”

“Thank you for the well-wish.” Jiwoo leans down to kiss Jungeun once, leaving a light lipstick stain on her temple. “I doubt it’ll be any fun though.”

“Mmm… Then don’t go.” Jungeun shifts slightly. “Stay with me for an… An hour.” The warmth of the blanket melts her speech, and she draws out her words. “Stay a looong tiiime.”

“You know I would if I could,” Jiwoo lies. She twirls Jungeun’s wispier hairs, the silk strands slipping away from even the gentlest touch.

“They’re crooks… They’re aaalways stealing you… From me…”

“Ah, Jungeunie. Let me make it up to you.” After much time spent, Jiwoo stands. “I have to go now, but let’s go out for a fancy dinner this weekend. Your choice, my treat. Consider it a year-and-a-half anniversary gift. Wait…” Counting on her fingers, Jiwoo crunches the numbers again. “… Well, it’ll have to be a late gift.”

“I don’t neeeeeed… Faaancy...” Nearly losing herself to sleep, “Just… Be with me. And sing… For meee…”

“I promise.” Jiwoo briefly links her pinky with Jungeun’s, then drops it back on the bed. “It’ll be your favorite song, too.”

“Thaaank yooouuu, Jiiiwoooooo…” She falls back asleep.

She used to call her ‘sweetheart.’ As she heads out to work, Jiwoo tries not to loathe her own name. She manages.

* * *

 

Near the transit center is a café Jiwoo frequents. The yellow lights dull the ambience and the pastries are delivered only every other day. Frankly, the place attracts more dust than patrons. Yet, it remains as is. Reliable and comfortable, so Jiwoo finds her way there every morning.

Time has made the front door stubborn, who only cooperates when Jiwoo shoves it. Perhaps too well, as she stumbles in, her heels playing a cacophonous song against the tiles. She looks for the source of laughter and finds a familiar face standing behind a register. Short hair and blue tongue.

“Hey, Haseul. Nice haircut.”

“Glad you noticed.” She flips her hair for show. “It’s getting hotter, so I thought it’d be good to do.”

“I know, I didn’t think it’d be Spring so soon.” Jiwoo steps up to the counter. “Have you finished moving into that new apartment yet?”

“Brought the last box in last Sunday. Can’t believe it took so long, but now I can finally sell my car.”

“Sell your car?” Jiwoo can see the hands of a clock turning. “Why?”

Haseul has had this car since college.

“My new place is close here, so I don’t need to drive to work. Plus, since I bought new furniture, I need the money.” Haseul picks up a notepad. “Life is changing.”

The clock ticks louder and Jiwoo scoffs. “But you’ll be working at this café for the rest of your life?”

Haseul sucks her teeth. “So what if I do? It’s what I want.” Crossing her arms, “What can you say?”

“Not much,” Jiwoo replies truthfully. With a smirk, Jiwoo adds, “You’re a bitch, Haseul.”

“But you love me, sweetheart.” Even though she was shorter than Jiwoo, Haseul stood tall. Holding her notepad in front of her, “So what’ll it be?”

“The usual,” Jiwoo answers without hesitation. She’d been planning this, wanting this.

Haseul cocks an eyebrow. “Really? Wow, Jiwoo… It’s been a while, I don’t know if I remember it much.”

“Don’t worry about it.” A feeble thumbs-up. “Just try your best.”

“I’m charmed.” Haseul rolls her eyes. “You’ve always had such a way with words.” She moves back to the machines. After a series of ingredient-pouring and lever-pulling, Haseul presses one last button to fill up Jiwoo’s cup. While waiting, she scribbles something on her notepad, then tears the paper out.

Once the cup is full, Haseul hands both the drink and the note to Jiwoo. “Thanks, Haseul.”

“No problem, Jiwooming.” The last ingredient, Haseul adds a wink. “See you later.”

Right outside the café, Jiwoo throws her drink into a trash can before taking a single sip. Next, she reads Haseul’s note. First, a new address. Below that, it reads, “ _Can’t wait to break in the new bed tonight_.”

* * *

 

If work ends now, it’ll be too late. Of course, only when Jiwoo wants time to pass does it crawl. Her boss tasked her with organizing a spreadsheet, but she can hardly be bothered. Her monitor flickers wearily, and Jiwoo yawns. She looks up to a clock hanging near her cubicle. It’ll be another two hours before her shift ends, as it does at the same time every day.

Suddenly her phone vibrates, shaking her out of the monotony. She flips it over to reveal Sooyoung’s caller ID. Her breathing gets faster and heavier.

Sooyoung went missing three years ago.

 _How? Could someone have her number now? Can that happen? No, I don’t think so… Could someone have her phone now? But why would they call me? What are the chances? Today?_ A knock from the neighboring cubicle interrupts her thoughts.

“Could you pick up your damn phone?”

“Ah, sorry!” As she listens well, Jiwoo picks it up. Gingerly, she brings it to her ear. Is she hopeful? Is she scared?

She whispers, “Hello? Who is thi-”

Clipping her words short, the caller responds. But the voice isn’t Sooyoung’s. In fact, it doesn’t sound like anyone. It seems pre-recorded, the voice deep and synthetic.

_“Do you want to play again? If so, press 1.”_

_Huh?_

After a pause, it repeats. _“Do you want to play again? If so, press 1.”_

“Who’s doing this? Who are you? How do you have this num-”

_“Do you want to play again? If so, press 1.”_

Through clenched teeth, “Listen here. Do you think you’re funny? Do you think messing with people like this is fun? What the hell is wrong with y-”

_“Do you want to play again? If so, press-”_

Jiwoo hangs up the phone and puts it back face down. Before her feelings can even find their legs, she starts working on the spreadsheet.

* * *

 

Once the clock strikes 5, Jiwoo makes a hasty exit. On to the bus and back towards the café, Jiwoo finds herself on a route less traveled nowadays. She had been trying to do better, but old habits die hard. If only she felt bad about it.

When she steps off the bus, she finds a familiar face standing at the café’s corner. Jiwoo can’t tell if she’s more surprised that Sooyoung is standing before her, or that she looks just the same as she did on their first date three years ago. Long hair tied into a neat bun, she scrolls aimlessly on her phone. Suddenly, Jiwoo is conscious of her years, rubbing at the wrinkles between her eyebrows. Oh, and she’s wearing such an ugly blouse, too. This is no way to look on a date.

First, she fixes her bangs, shaping them to frame her round face just right. Then, she calls to the figure whose foot taps incessantly against the pavement.

“Sooyoung! Keep going like that and your foot will fall off!” And with unfound energy, Jiwoo hops from the transit platform to the sidewalk, making her way towards her first crush.

“Wow, I’m charmed, Jiwoo.” Sooyoung rolls her eyes. With crossed arms, “What took you so long anyway?”

“I…” At a loss for words, Jiwoo licks her lips. She finds a gloss she thought had long been expired and thrown out. “I was nervous…” Jiwoo looks down, brushing some hair behind her ear. “I… Just wanted to make sure I looked nice for you.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet. And you look super cute.” Confidently, Sooyoung takes Jiwoo’s hands in hers. “You ready?”

Still too shy to look up, “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“I know, it feels like a dream.”

When Jiwoo realizes she can’t see Sooyoung’s feet below her, she looks up. Today marks the three-year anniversary of the day Sooyoung went missing. Jiwoo is still wearing her ugly, white blouse of many, and her lips are dry. She is alone.

She tries calling Sooyoung’s number again. Before it can even finish its question, she presses ‘1’ on her phone and hangs up. She makes it to Haseul’s new apartment before a thought can cross her mind. As soon as the door closes behind them, she shoves Haseul against the wall, and they’re back on track. The usual, just how it’s meant to be served.

* * *

 

She used to wrap herself in the blanket afterward, but now she shamelessly splays herself over her half of the bed. An arm and leg hang over the edge. Haseul stands to grab something from one cardboard box of many. She returns to bed sucking a lollipop.

Jiwoo points it out. “Why do you always have one of those after we hook up?”

“To get rid of your taste.” Haseul pulls the candy out, regarding it for a moment. A brilliant blue, it quickly returns to her mouth.

“Whatever. Next time, invest in a pack of gum, Shakespeare.”

Haseul chucks a pillow towards Jiwoo, who dodges the projectile just barely. Sitting atop the blanket, they both laugh. “I’ll cherish that advice dearly.” Reaching over Jiwoo to retrieve her pillow, Haseul continues. “Blue’s my favorite flavor, though.”

“Blue? It’s not even a real flavor, it’s just a color.” While Haseul is near, Jiwoo kisses her neck once.

“Well, it tastes good. And it makes me feel better.”

“Feel better about what?”

Haseul glares. “You know.” Gesturing around, “… This.”

Jiwoo laughs, sinking into the sheets. “I don’t know.”

“‘You don’t know?’ You don’t feel bad? At all?”

She repeats, “I don’t know.”

“I can’t believe it.” No, Haseul clarifies, “I can’t believe _you_.”

“Ah, don’t you think it’s worse if you feel it’s wrong, yet you choose to do it?”

“Just because you don’t feel anything doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“Never said it was.” Before Haseul can get up and put her clothes on, Jiwoo springs on top of her, cupping her face. “You know, I like you more when you’re under me.”

Haseul brings her hand behind Jiwoo’s head, entangling her fingers in her hair. “I could say the same for you.” She starts to lean in, Jiwoo doing the same. However, she goes no further, Jiwoo wincing as she's yanked away by her hair.

“What’d you do that for?” While Jiwoo massages her sore scalp, Haseul gets up.

“Don’t think I don’t know what today is,” Haseul says with her back turned, standing tall. “She was my friend, too.”

In a beat, “I saw her today.”

Haseul continues dressing herself.

“What, nothing? You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“You’ve always been crazy.” Haseul finally turns to look at her. “But I know you’re hurting, and it’s led you nowhere. You’ve been stuck in the same place for three years, and it’s not fair to Jungeun. Or to yourself.” Leaning forward, “Or to me. I miss who you were.”

“I saw her today, too.”

“Well, let her know I want her to come back.” Eyes open and wary, Haseul meets Jiwoo’s lips, holding herself there for a year, or a few seconds. Whispering, “You should put your clothes on now. Don’t make Jungeun too worried.”

As she listens well, Jiwoo dresses herself. Haseul sticks her blue tongue out at her when she leaves, and she heads home.

* * *

 

Jungeun is nowhere to be found.

Jiwoo looks, Jiwoo texts, Jiwoo calls, but Jungeun is nowhere to be found.

 _What are the chances? Today?_ Angrily, “Do you think you’re funny, Jungeun?” But Jungeun is nowhere to be found.

Having done all that she could, Jiwoo resorts to extreme measures.

_“112, what’s your emergency?_

“I’d like to report a missing person.”

_"Name, age?”_

“Ha Sooyoung, 23 years old.” | “Kim Jungeun, 24 years old.”  
---|---  
  
_“Physical appearance?”  
  
_  
“Dark hair, tall. She was wearing a red shirt with jeans.” | “Brown hair, average height. I last saw her this morning, she was wearing a tank-top with shorts.”  
  
_“Last known whereabouts?”  
  
_  
“We… We were waiting for the bus. We were going to go downtown, there’s an event today. B-but, I looked away, and I looked back, and… She was just gone. I don’t know how, but she was. And I just saw her, please help. I just saw her. Please. She was just here.” | “Our apartment, I’m her girlfriend. She was just here.”  
  | _  
“Address?”_  
   
  
After the call, Jiwoo is alone. Alone is dangerous. Feelings prey on the alone. So, she goes to sleep.

* * *

 

Jiwoo wakes up to Jungeun’s kiss. She coos, “Good morning, sweetheart.” Jiwoo can’t tell if she’s more surprised that Jungeun has reappeared, or that she woke up before her.

Before rubbing her eyes awake, Jiwoo pulls Jungeun into her embrace, holding her tightly. “I’m so glad you’re home,” and she means it.

Jungeun’s laugh is bright and unfamiliar. “You’re so silly. Here, I’ll get breakfast ready for the both of us.” She tries to break free, but Jiwoo won’t let her.

“I’m so glad. I’m so glad.” And she means it.

“What happened? Bad dream?”

“A nightmare,” Jiwoo mutters. Eyes open, she’s finally awake, and she realizes another unfamiliarity. “You… Your hair… It’s blonde.”

Jungeun hasn’t been blonde for four years.

“We went over this yesterday. For someone so smart, you gotta’ learn to keep up, baby!” Jungeun adds a wink. Then, she taps Jiwoo’s nose with a magic finger. “Here, I’ll make breakfast today. It’ll take a while, so you can take your time getting ready.” Out of Jiwoo's arms, Jungeun slips out from underneath the blanket. With her gone out the door and into the kitchen, Jiwoo realizes nothing is as remembered. The door is white, not brown. Instead of squeaking, it swings silently. The popcorned ceiling is smoothed out and the floors are soft.

“What the…” she starts, only to grab at her throat. This too is not hers. When she runs a hand along her jaw, it is not round like a petal. Instead, it comes to a point, like a thorn. And she stands taller than before, even taller than Haseul. Next, she grabs at her stomach. She feels ill. Perhaps homesick? More so her height giving her vertigo. Like a toddler, she stumbles over herself with unpracticed limbs. She needs to find a mirror, but she doesn’t know where the bathroom is.

When she bumps into a dresser, Jungeun calls out from the kitchen, “Jinsol, are you okay?”

_Jinsol? Who is Jinsol?_

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jiwoo responds.

“Okay! Just checking in, sweetheart!”

 _Who is Jinsol?_ Jiwoo wonders again, fists clenched. _Who is ‘sweetheart?’_ Her new fingers dig into her palms.

As she continues her search, Jiwoo tries not to loathe her new name. She doesn’t manage as well this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i know im saying a lot in this first chapter so it might be too much but it's all part of the writing ~~~~experimentinggg~~~~  
> please let me know your thoughts about the first chapter in the comments or on twitter!!!
> 
>  
> 
> [twt: @yeojinakgae_](https://twitter.com/yeojinakgae_)


	2. Taking Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im apologizing in advance for the amount of physics in this chapter but pls bear with me i swear it's not that bad :))))))  
> (also slightly different writing style this chapter let me know how it is)  
> i hope you all like the chapter despite all the sciencey stuff!  
> credits to caskerbox for the english translation of jiwoo's song!!! if you haven't heard it yet, [here it is!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JU7r1sxBHHM)

If you want to grow taller, there exists a procedure where your legs are broken in many places, then stretched little by little as the bone heals, tissue filling out all the crevices. You’ll gain a few inches at most, but they’ll feel like miles. Not only is the process expensive, but it's also excruciating, pulling you apart over the course of nine months. And you must not do anything other than heal. Rest and heal, nothing more.

In this new body, Jiwoo wobbles with every step. She must sit down, though she chooses not to rest. She has yet to know it.

In her shared living space with Jungeun, Jinsol has built herself an office. Jiwoo finds herself there, unsure whether it was on her own accord. Sure, she can command the fingers to turn onto themselves and straighten out, but the legs are not her own. Even now as she sits on Jinsol’s chair, they stretch far away from her, disgusted by her presence. It seems as though she could never reach them.

An intruder, Jiwoo sinks into her seat, embarrassed to be caught red-handed.

Facing a window, she watches the sun creep over the horizon. The window isn’t completely transparent, so light cannot shine freely, but must worm its way through the glass. Such movement makes the shadows dance to a silent song. When Jiwoo peeks behind her, her shadow curtsies. What a splendid performance! She applauds quietly, and the shadow applauds too.

Jiwoo knows nothing of Jinsol, and it hurts a little bit. Before they started dating, Jungeun was her best friend. So why didn’t she know about Jinsol? _How_ could she not have known? Her fingers curl into a fist.

No more. Taking control, Jiwoo moves the body forward, basking in the light.

Papers cover the entirety of Jinsol’s desk, you’d hardly know it was wooden. Millions of equations, both handwritten and printed, none of which Jiwoo could make any sense. Her patience wears thin, the numbers and symbols disorienting. Physics was never her forte.

Finally, she uncovers two sticky notes. The first:         

With a total of six exclamation marks, Jiwoo can practically hear it. Now, she takes a moment to listen.

Jiwoo breathes in, allowing air to fill her up. She floats, only anchored by the tips of her toes. Then, she lets all the air out through a closed mouth, humming a simple tune. Even so, she can tell Jinsol sings. Her body feels much more like her own, and she wiggles her toes. The carpet is soft.

Once again, she regards the sticky note. Jinsol was likely reminding herself about one of Jungeun’s showcases. And Jiwoo’s heart—her own—sinks. _I really could’ve used this reminder_. She looks to the silly little faces Jinsol drew, one happy, one angry. Long ago, depending on the circumstance, she’d see either emotion sketched on Jungeun’s face. But not anymore. _When was the last time Jungeun invited me to one of her showcases?_ She must’ve stopped trying, and now Jungeun is neither happy nor angry.

The other note reads:

_That makes sense_. Jiwoo picks up a cassette tape recorder, which she had dismissed earlier. Panasonic, sleek in black. An artifact from several decades prior, yet not a single speck of dust has settled upon it. Back when she pursued music, Jiwoo had a recorder just like this one. She sang over countless tapes as if she’d sing forever. Of course, life led her in another direction, and now her recorder sits idly. For the first time in a while, she presses play.

 _“Good morning, class.”_ It’s Jinsol’s voice. Without a doubt.

Students’ replies are scattered over the next few seconds, responses varying from formal _(“Good morning, Miss Jung_ ”) to casual ( _“Morning”_ ).

_“First of all, I’d like to thank your teacher, Miss Choi, for letting me teach class today. I’ve learned so much watching her teach for all these weeks, and someday when I have my own class, I hope I’ll be able to raise my students to be as intelligent and capable as all of you.”_

She’s not just a physics major, but _oh, she’s a teaching assistant_. _Maybe I understand her better than I thought._ Jiwoo wanted to be a music teacher once. She commands her feet to sink deeper into the carpet.

_“Now, onto the lesson. I think we’ve all heard of the idiom: ‘Time is relative.’ Well, there’s a scientific explanation to that phenomenon._

_“The theory of special relativity is rooted in the fact that the speed of light is the same in all inertial—or non-accelerating—frames of reference. So, what does this mean?”_

Jiwoo can hear Jinsol shuffle about, her clothes swishing.

_“Think fast.”_

The sound of an object ripping through the air, then a resounding _“oof.”_

 _“I gave fair warning, so I better not get any threatening calls from your parents later, Heejin.”_ The students laugh, and Jinsol does too. _“Also, the ball is soft and squishy. AKA, totally harmless.”_

_“Let’s say I threw the ball with a velocity of 15 meters per second. Since none of us moved anywhere, we all perceived the ball’s velocity to be 15 meters per second._

_“However, what if I was moving? Let’s say I throw the ball again with the same velocity, but while I’m also running forward with a constant velocity of 5 meters per second. So, relative to all of you, the ball has a velocity of… Of what? Any takers?”_

Jiwoo sure as hell doesn’t know.

_“Yes, Hyejoo?”_

The student responds, _“20 meters per second.”_

_“Correct! Since I’m running forward, my own velocity adds to the velocity at which I throw the ball, and 5 plus 15 is 20. So, while the ball’s velocity is 15 meters per second from my perspective, it’s 20 meters per second from yours.”_

Jiwoo hears Jinsol shuffle around again. Then, a click.

_“Now, instead of throwing a ball, consider this flashlight here. As I see it, light is shooting out of it at about 300 million meters per second. But I don’t need you to memorize the speed of light, just focus on the theory of special relativity._

_“If I move forward at a constant velocity…”_ One of Jinsol’s steps squeaks against linoleum. _“My own velocity should add to the light’s velocity, right? Just like with the ball I threw. So, from your guys’ perspective, as long as I’m moving, the light’s velocity should be greater than 300 million meters per second, right? Ah, not quite.”_

 _Okay… I’m pretty lost._ Jinsol clicks the flashlight off, leaving Jiwoo in the dark.

_“If you can recall correctly, the speed of light is the same in all non-accelerating frames of reference. Since neither of us are accelerating, the speed of light is exactly the same for the both of us. So what gives?”_

She can’t even manage to shrug Jinsol’s shoulders.

_“When I threw the ball, I saw it going at 15 meters per second, while you guys saw 20. So, we know that my perception of the light’s velocity should be a little slower than yours, or that my quote-on-quote ‘300 million meters per second’ must be slower than yours. But how can that be?_

_“Einstein realized that this meant that as I move with a constant velocity, time itself is slower. My seconds last longer than yours. This means that the faster an inertial frame of reference moves, the slower time will be in that particular frame._

_“Any questions so far? Yes, Yeojin?”_

The student clears their throat, and all side-talking in the classroom simmers down. _“So, like… If I just run for the rest of my life, I’ll outlive everyone in this room, right?”_ Noise begins to bubble, snickers and murmurs embellishing the recording. _“What a dumb question…”_ another student remarks. Jiwoo goes red for the girl.

 _“Alright everyone, simmer down now. In a way, Yeojin isn’t wrong. If everyone in here stays in their seats for the rest of their lives while Yeojin runs forever, then assuming you all die around the same age, she’s right. Since she’ll be moving, her time will be slower than ours, so she’ll take longer to reach 100 years than we will. And when she’s the last one standing, who’s gonna’ laugh at her then, huh?”_ The class is silent.

_“But this brings us to an interesting thought experiment. Imagine someday when Mars is habitable, your friend decides to move there. So, being the good friend that you are, you decide to be there when they fly into space._

_“Let’s say your friend is drifting away from Earth into space at some constant velocity. It’ll be pretty fast, too; we’re talking space travel here. Well, by the theory of special relativity, they will experience time slower than you. Probably quite a bit slower. So, if you somehow had a telescope that was strong enough to see your friend chilling in their spaceship, you would find them in slow motion. That’s because they may only be experiencing a single second for every one of your hours; if they’re fast enough, a whole day could pass for you before they finish taking another step. Crazy, right?”_

At some point, Jiwoo returned to the Jinsol’s chair, finally taking the chance to rest. She drums her fingertips on an armrest, still listening. You don’t always need to understand a song to enjoy it.

_“Now, consider your friend’s perspective. If they’re just chilling in a spaceship, then from their perspective, they’re not moving at all. In fact, to them, you’re the one who’s moving! While you see them flying away in a rocket, they see you flying away with the planet Earth. So, from their perspective, your time is slower than theirs. From their perspective, you appear unchanging._

_“So, I ask again: What gives? How can this situation be possible? Are either of your perceptions incorrect?_

_“Your intuition will betray you, and you may think that your friend must be wrong. I mean, they’re the one on the rocket, right? They’re the one flying away, not you. So they must be wrong._

_“But they’re not. In fact, both of your perceptions are correct.  Both of you see the other flying away with incredible speed. And if you can find each other through a telescope, each of you will find that as time passes normally for you, the other person appears unchanging. Both of you will believe you have lived and died before the other has finished batting an eye. It seems impossible, but it’s true. As they say, time is relative._

_“Do you want to play again?”_

When Jiwoo finally finds Jinsol’s lecture lulling, that voice—chillingly artificial—slices through her comfort with deft precision. Goosebumps prickle Jinsol’s arms and legs, and suddenly Jiwoo can’t breathe, shivers taking control. Her vision blurs, then fades, and it’s as if she’s been flung into space. Jinsol’s fingers carve their shape into her armrests, Jiwoo’s grip on reality waning.

Another voice cuts through. Real. Familiar.

“Sweetheart.”

Jungeun’s voice.

Jiwoo gladly swings her chair around. “Jungeun-“

 _Wait a second._ As Jungeun leans against the doorway, tears dance at the corners of her eyes. One brave soul escapes, stomps all over her cheek, then drips from her chin, exiting the stage. And the door is brown again. Jiwoo finds hardwood under her feet and it’s freezing. Surprised, she hikes her knees up to her chest. Her legs are shorter, too; they must be her own. In fact, everything now appears to be her own. _So why do I feel like I’m on Mars?_

“Where were you?” Jungeun asks.

“I don’t even know…”

“Give me a real answer, Jiwoo. Where were you?”

“I…” Jiwoo shivers again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jungeun brings a foot down. As if the hardwood were a drum, her anger resonates through the floor and into the room. The vibrations attack Jiwoo from all angles, and she can only flinch.

“I told you!” Jungeun cries. “Thursday! At 7! You promised, Jiwoo, you promised!”

The universe has many strange ways of striking a balance. While Jungeun roars, Jiwoo is reduced to whispers. Mouse-like, she apologizes, “I-I’m sorry. I must’ve forgotten, it was an honest mistake.”

Jungeun shakes her head. “I don’t know why I try anymore.”

“Jungeun, don’t say that.”

She erupts, “Don’t tell me what to do! Does a promise mean nothing to you?” She raises her voice even higher. “Do you even care about me?”

With Jungeun so loud, Jiwoo can’t make any sounds, not even a hum. She tries to avoid Jungeun’s gaze. Avoid her guilt, her shame. But she can’t run, for her body is resting. And nothing pierces quite as deeply as Jungeun’s eyes.

“Say something, Jiwoo! Say anything!”

Her lips won’t part.

Jungeun begs, “Please!” More tears take stage upon her cheeks, making for quite the show. “You need to care!”

She claws at her own face, desperate to pry her mouth open. Her tears too beg to dance. She folds over, a scream trying to tear through her but with nowhere to go. Her nails paint pink streaks, irritating her skin.

With her back turned, Jungeun is oblivious to Jiwoo’s performance. “If you really have nothing to say, then neither do I.” She walks away. “Goodnight, Jiwoo.”

Every step Jungeun takes feels like a million years. Yet, at the same time, before Jiwoo can even take one step towards her, it’s already too late. She’s gone again.

No Jungeun, no Jinsol. The tape recorder is all that’s left for her, laying quietly in her lap. Gently, she runs her thumb down its side, and her tears fall without a sound. Her words escape her, silence threatening to consume her whole. Someone’s voice must save her.

When Jiwoo presses play, she hears herself.

 _Words from deep within_  
_Though I have to be careful_  
_I can’t hesitate much longer_  
_Close your eyes_  
_And I will tell you now_  
_One step_  
_Take courage, and come one step towards me_  
_Look at me_  
_These words, new and clumsy_

_Love you  
Like you_

A hand finds Jiwoo’s shoulder, so she turns her head, looking up. Her cheeks have dried, tears replaced by a faint blush. Anxious for a response, her legs shake, and she tucks some hair behind her ear.

Sooyoung flashes her a brilliant smile. “Your song is amazing.”

Jiwoo didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until now, letting it go. “You really think so?”

“I know so.” Sooyoung would never let her doubt herself.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah? Who’s the song about anyway?”

Her blush returns. “Just… Someone I know.”

“I see.” Sooyoung cocks an eyebrow. “Would I also happen to know this certain ‘someone?’”

Jiwoo bites her lip. “Maybe…” She can’t keep a small laugh from escaping her.

“Hey! Why’re you laughing?” Sooyoung’s eyes betray her, curving into little crescents; she could never actually be annoyed with Jiwoo. “Just tell meee!” She rocks Jiwoo back and forth in her chair.

The bouncing makes Jiwoo’s voice jump up and down. “No! I can’t!”

“I’m gonna’ keep rocking you until you tell me!”

Jiwoo laughs more. “Do your worst!”

“You asked for it!”

Jiwoo is still for only a second as Sooyoung rolls up her sleeves. Suddenly, Jiwoo slams into the back of her seat as she’s rocked at twice the speed. But it’s nothing like a rocket, for she’d never want to leave Sooyoung behind on this planet. Soon, both girls are laughing so hard, Jiwoo hardly remembers the silence that threatened her before.

When her chair returns to a standstill, Jiwoo comes back down to Earth. When she looks around, she finds papers scattered on a desktop. When she curls her toes into the ground, she feels soft carpet. When she stretches her legs, they point away from her, aiming towards something far off in space. Like all the others, Sooyoung is gone.

Jiwoo finds Jungeun at the doorway again, carrying no tears with her this time around. Maybe she’s saving her performance for another day.

Jungeun flashes her a brilliant smile. “Breakfast is done! Come and get it while it’s hot!”

The tape recorder still lays in Jinsol’s lap. Jiwoo asks, “Why haven’t I gotten rid of this thing yet? It’s so old, and the audio quality sucks.”

Jungeun rolls her eyes. “I’ve probably asked you that question a million times. I don’t know why you keep holding onto it.”

Jinsol’s head shakes. “Probably means something important, then.”

“It only means something if you want it to. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Jungeun turns, walking back towards the kitchen. “You better hurry before I eat everything by myself.”

Jiwoo stands on her legs, new and clumsy. As she runs to catch up to Jungeun, she wonders how long it takes to heal. She wonders if she wants to take the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fr tho, physics is like one of my favorite subjects so if you ever need physics help just send me a dm! i luv helping!!  
> sorry i can't update all that quickly im a slow writer! hope you enjoyed this chapter <3<3<3  
> (also does anyone want to beta read i swear i always find a kajillion mistakes in my writing only after posting .-.)
> 
> twt: [@yeojinakgae_](https://twitter.com/yeojinakgae_)  
> cc: [@montegobae](https://curiouscat.me/montegobae)


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